


Midnight Fever

by ambientwhispers



Category: B-PROJECT 鼓動＊アンビシャス | B-PROJECT: Kodou Ambitious
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Playing Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 05:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20371165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambientwhispers/pseuds/ambientwhispers
Summary: Momotaro has caught a fever from Yuta, and Mikado wants to take care of him...





	Midnight Fever

**Author's Note:**

> so.
> 
> There's a small collection of us RPing bpro characters on Twitter.
> 
> These are actual Twitter handles. I play Mikado. This is inspired by an actual event (that happened, like, three months ago because it's taken me f o r e v e r to write this).
> 
> Have fun.

“Momotasu,” Mikado called from the doorway. His phone was still in his hand and a pleased smile tugged at his lips. He'd just gotten to spend the night with Momotaro last night. While the occasion wasn't nearly as pleasant tonight, it was always nice to sleep in the same bed together.

Momotaro gave a weak smile in return. “You look happy.”

Mikado closed the door behind him as he slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’m just happy to be able to take care of you. I know you're not feeling well—you probably caught what Yutaso has. I hope you don't grow as sick as him.” The smile faded from his lips as he recalled Yuta’s high fever and subsequent hospitalization.

“At any rate,” Mikado continued, forcing another smile onto his face, “I’ll be here to take care of you.”

Momotaro had been tapping his phone while glancing up at Mikado as he spoke. As soon as he set his phone down on his lap Mikado felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket. He wasn't expecting any texts but checked, in case it was Kento updating him on Yuta’s condition.

Instead he found a push notification from Momotaro’s Twitter account.

> @mmtr_moons
> 
> mika came in my room looking all excited, I don’t know how someone can be so happy if there’s a risk of getting sick lol

They'd been tweeting back and forth about Mikado taking care of Momotaro while he had this fever, but Mikado hadn't expected a tweet teasing him about his arrival.

He swallowed a gasp and replied via another tweet—he knew if he didn't defend himself, he'd have to endure some measure of further teasing from the others, likely Yuta at the very least.

> @mamirinmika0125
> 
> Momotasu!!!

Momotaro’s lips quirked up as he read his phone screen, and he glanced up at Mikado. He didn't say anything, but Mikado could tell by the crinkles at the corners of those odd-colored eyes and the tip of his lips that Momotaro thought having a conversation over Twitter while standing in the same room was hilarious. His thumbs flew across his phone screen again, and then Mikado’s phone buzzed in his hands.

> @mmtr_moons
> 
> what is it, mika?

Mikado  _ knew _ the rest of MooNs— _ at least— _ knew about what he and Momotaro had, if not all of B-PRO, but he  _ also _ knew they had some fans following them. He gnawed his lower lip as he tapped out his response.

> @mamirinmika1025
> 
> Y-you didn’t have to tell everyone!!!

Momotaro shifted in his bed to lean forward and beckoned Mikado over to him. Once Mikado began to walk toward the bed, Momotaro began typing again.

> @mmtr_moons
> 
> oh, I didn’t think you wanted this to be a secret ....
> 
> I’m sure we can find a way for you to forgive me

Mikado read over the tweet then looked up at Momotaro, his eyes wide.

Momotaro wore a simple smile as he looked up at Mikado. Neither of them had spoken a word in several minutes, but Mikado knew there was more being said between their silence and Momotaro’s last tweet.

He sank onto the bed before tapping out one last reply. 

> @mamirinmika0125
> 
> ... I’m sure we can, Momotasu. Now, let’s go to bed.

He set his phone down on the bedside table before taking Momotaro's from his hands and doing the same. Slowly, he leaned in to press his lips against Momotaro's neck. The heat radiating from the flesh was all the more intense against the more sensitive skin of his mouth.

“Ah, Mika—” Momotaro gasped with the first brush of Mikado’s teeth against his neck.

Mikado paused, then pulled back. Momotaro wasn't feeling well. It was obvious from the flush to his cheeks visible even before Mikado had begun touching him. Obvious from the way his skin burned under Mikado’s touch. "I'm sorry, Momotasu. I shouldn't have—“

The corners of his eyes tightened and his lips pulled down just enough for Mikado to notice, then Momotaro dropped his gaze and looked up at Mikado through his eyelashes.

Those long, delicate eyelashes, the ones that framed his eyes so perfectly, setting off the stark difference in their color.

“But... Sekimura-sensei... don’t you need to do an exam before you can diagnose what’s wrong?”

Mikado's breath caught in his throat, both from Momotaro using his family name and the knowledge that Momotaro had just suggested they  _ play doctor _ . He wanted to touch Momotaro, certainly, but he hadn't expected Momotaro to be just as interested considering his present circumstances.

Momotaro wasn't backing down from the game he'd just proposed, and the way he was looking into Mikado's eyes…

"Ah," Mikado said, then sat up and straightened his glasses. He let himself slip into character. "This seems very serious, Onzai-san."

He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever referred to Momotaro with such formality. He'd been calling him "Momotasu" since they were kids.

He continued by putting a hand to Momotaro's shoulder and gently pushing him back down onto the bed. "I'll need to do a  _ thorough _ examination to ensure a proper diagnosis and treatment."

Momotaro shifted on the bed, settling himself into the pillows. "I hope you can figure out what's wrong, Sekimura-sensei."

"I'll have to start with your temperature," Mikado said. "I seem to have forgotten my thermometer, so I suppose I'll have to… get creative."

He leaned down slowly, bracing his hands to either side of Momotaro’s shoulders, and pressed his lips to Momotaro's. The heat from his fever radiated even from his lips, and once he brushed his tongue against them and Momotaro opened for him, the heat grew even more intense.

The fever didn't reduce Momotaro’s enthusiasm. He matched Mikado’s pace with the kiss before pushing it deeper. He brought up one of his hands, burning with fever and desire, and hooked it around the back of Mikado’s neck.

It took all of Mikado’s self-control to be able to pull back from the kiss again.

Momotaro gazed up at him, breathless, before saying, “What do you think, sensei?”

“Yes, well,” Mikado said as he grasped for his character again, “You certainly have a fever. This is more serious than I thought.”

“What's your diagnosis?”

Mikado smiled as he traced his fingers along Momotaro's jaw. “I don't know yet. I should do a full physical examination just to rule out anything visible.”

He started the way he'd seen and felt doctors examining people so many times before: running his fingertips under the jaw and down the neck to check lymph nodes. From there he picked up and inspected each of Momotaro's arms, carefully letting his fingertips drag across the skin. Nothing was  _ medically _ noticeable beyond the fever and resulting swelling in his lymph nodes, but he took the time to  _ truly _ appreciate Momotaro's body.

Not that he didn't appreciate it; quite the opposite. However, it was so rare that he took the time to enjoy each part individually to add to the whole. The pale skin, subtly contrasting against his own, was incredibly soft under his fingertips. Each of Momotaro's limbs was slender and lithe—they had a strength to them, certainly, but his build was more wiry than bulky.

Mikado couldn't help himself, and he brought Momotaro's hand to his lips.

“That isn't very professional, sensei.” Momotaro’s lips quirked up in a smile, though he didn't remove his hand from Mikado’s.

Mikado lowered Momotaro's hand far enough to smile over it. "My apologies, Onzai-san. Now… I will need you to remove your shirt, please."

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Momotaro's lips as he sat up. Mikado helped him upright, then stepped back as Momotaro drew his shirt over his head. He took it from Momotaro's hands, then set it aside as he settled back onto the pillows. "So why am I taking off my shirt, sensei? Is this so you can continue your examination?"

"Of course," Mikado said as he pulled the blankets down to Momotaro's hips. "It would be difficult to examine you with the clothing in the way."

Momotaro pushed the blankets a little further down. "Oh, of course, sensei. That makes sense."

Again Mikado started with just his hands, skirting his fingertips over Momotaro's collarbone to his shoulders, then slowly down his chest. The flesh here was even warmer than his lips and arms had been, and when Momotaro shuddered under his touch he murmured, "Are you uncomfortable, Onzai-san?"

Momotaro shook his head. "No. That just…" He cleared his throat. "That feels far too good for an examination, sensei."

"It's necessary, Onzai-san," Mikado said as he continued to let his hands move across Momotaro's chest and stomach. Momotaro's heart pounded under his touch, his chest rising and falling with fast breaths. A deeper flush had spread across Momotaro's cheeks, more than just the fever had left him with before.

Mikado flicked his tongue over his lips, drew a shuddering breath in anticipation, and let his fingertips run over Momotaro's nipples.

As soon as he touched them, Momotaro let his eyes slip closed with a soft sigh. He arched his back up off the bed to press himself up against Mikado's touch.

For the moment, their roles were forgotten, and Mikado bent forward to close his lips around one while he rubbed his thumb over the other. Momotaro was almost never loud, but he still made his pleasure known: as soon as Mikado flicked his tongue against his nipple he let out a low moan. It wasn't so much audible as it was something Mikado felt rumbling against his mouth.

The longer Mikado kept the movement going, the more the heat of Momotaro's body became tolerable against his lips. The reactions Momotaro gave grew more interesting, as well—the way he began to roll up under Mikado's touch, the way his soft panting would give way to low moans when Mikado's teeth would scrape.

He didn't even care about playing the game anymore. He wanted Momotaro. He released Momotaro's nipple from his mouth, then moved down to kiss again, this time letting his teeth do more of the work. Momotaro's breath hitched as soon as Mikado drew a pinch of flesh between his teeth and sucked firmly.

He continued the movement as he moved down closer to Momotaro's waist, leaving a trail of deep red marks in his wake. Momotaro's breathing grew faster with anticipation the closer Mikado grew to the waistband of his pants, with some actual soft moans beginning to slip out at the end of his sighs.

With no small amount of effort, Mikado pulled himself back in to the character. "Onzai-san, I can't complete a thorough examination with the rest of your clothing in the way." As he spoke, he shifted to pull the sheets off from Momotaro's legs.

Momotaro flicked his tongue out over his lips as he reached down to unbutton and unzip his pants. As he lifted his hips from the bed, Mikado reached up to hook his fingers into the waistband of his underwear. He worked them both down Momotaro's hips and legs, standing up from the bed to make room for him to work.

He paused for a moment to take in the sight of Momotaro splayed on the bed, completely nude. The flush on his cheeks spread across his chest and shoulders as well, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. Whether it was from the fever or the arousal, Mikado couldn't tell.

Of course, Momotaro's cock stood erect from his hips, quivering with each beat of his heart, but Mikado wasn't ready to end this yet.

He continued to run his hands down Momotaro's body with gentle strokes. His fingertips grazed along the fronts of Momotaro's thighs to his knees, then around the back to go down his calves.

Momotaro's breath picked up again as he brought the back of his hand up to rest over his mouth. His eyes had fallen half-closed, though he still watched Mikado’s every move closely.

As Mikado slid his hands back up Momotaro's legs, each of Momotaro's breaths ended in a soft, desperate moan.

“Could you roll onto your side, Onzai-san?” Mikado murmured as he rested his hand on Momotaro's hip. “I’d like to be able to see your back.”

Momotaro blinked a couple of times, then brought his hand down from his mouth to roll in the direction Mikado urged him. He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes open wider again.

Mikado could only use one hand this time, but he still ran it over Momotaro's back. His fingertips skirted over his shoulder blades, the vertebrae of his spine, the palpable outlines of his ribs…

Down over the swell of Momotaro's ass. This he spent more time on, alternating between soft strokes over the skin and firm kneading of the muscles. Here the same as anywhere the heat rolled off Momotaro’s body, though it seemed worse, likely because of the fact that this side of him had been pressed against the mattress.

“Ah, Mika,” Momotaro gasped. A heartbeat later, likely having remembered the game they were trying to play, he self-corrected. “…S-Sekimura-sensei!”

The last fragment of Mikado’s restraint crumbled away, and he let his fingertips slip into the crack of Momotaro's ass to graze against his hole. He wouldn't do anything more than that without some sort of lubrication, but the way Momotaro’s breath hitched with the single touch was lovely.

“Onzai-san,” Mikado said softly. “I think I have a treatment plan for you.”

Between gasping breaths, Momotaro replied, “What is it, sensei?”

“Roll onto your back again, please.”

It took Momotaro a few moments to be able to turn over. It obviously was taking effort—whether it was from the distraction of his arousal or the weakness from his fever, Mikado didn't know. Still, once he was sure Momotaro was able to make the move by himself, Mikado slid open the drawer he knew held what he was looking for.

“What's your treatment, sensei?” Momotaro asked in a low, breathy tone. The sound of it went straight down Mikado’s spine to settle in the base of his gut and it drew a small shudder from him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and prayed he could hold onto his character for at least a  _ few _ moments longer. “I believe you’ve got a lot of tension. Your body is so stiff…” he ran his hands along Momotaro's thighs, very tips of his fingers bumping against the base of his cock. “I want to help you… release it. Maybe you'll feel better after."

Momotaro darted his tongue out over his lips again, then nodded. "Please do, sensei… anything you think will help me recover."

"Tell me if you become uncomfortable," Mikado murmured, then took Momotaro's cock in his hand. The first stroke he took up to the tip drew a deep sigh from Momotaro's lips, and Mikado couldn't suppress his smile.

He continued to stroke his hand slowly along Momotaro's length. He didn't speed up despite Momotaro's eyes drifting closed, despite the way one of Momotaro's hands clung to the sheets under him, despite the way his breaths continued to end in soft moans. Watching Momotaro's chest rise and fall with his rapid breaths was captivating, but it did nothing to spur Mikado on.

"A-ah, Mmmm—sensei," Momotaro gasped, remembering at the last moment to keep the character up.

"How are you feeling, Onzai-san?" Mikado murmured as he curled his hand around the head of Momotaro's cock.

Momotaro's breath caught in his throat, his chin tipping up as his lips parted in a silent moan. "It… it seems to be helping, sensei… please don't stop…"

"Not until I finish the treatment, Onzai-san." Mikado leaned forward to take one of Momotaro's nipples in his other hand, gently pinching it as he continued to stroke his hand along Momotaro's length.

His reaction was exquisite. With a soft gasp, he pushed his chest up into Mikado's touch, and it almost seemed as though he grew even harder in Mikado's grip. It was intoxicating.

He continued to move his hand, squeezing more firmly on the way up, curling his hand around gently on the way back down. Each time he put more pressure on Momotaro's nipple, especially when he timed it with the slide back down, Momotaro's breath hitched.

"Please… please," Momotaro moaned.

"I think you're ready for the next part of the treatment," Mikado said as he pulled his hands back from Momotaro's body.

Momotaro let out a soft wordless whine when Mikado’s hands left him, but otherwise he stayed where he was. Already he was falling apart. Already Mikado longed to leave him completely undone.

He picked up the bottle he'd pulled from the drawer, opened the cap, and squeezed some of the liquid out onto his fingers. It was cold against his skin, and for a moment he regretted not having warmed the bottle somehow first, but then again, with Momotaro's fever, it'd likely warm enough quickly enough for it not to be a problem at all.

With the other hand, Mikado nudged Momotaro's thighs apart. He took his time to circle his fingers around Momotaro's entrance, serving both to spread the fluid and coax the muscle into relaxing. The look on Momotaro's face was wonderfully tortured—both like he was still adapting to the sensation of Mikado doing this, but also that he was looking forward to it. Mikado went painstakingly slow, and pulled his fingers back several times to add more lubricant.

Once Momotaro was moaning under Mikado’s touch, lifting his hips to meet Mikado’s fingers, he knew it was time for the next step. Slowly and gently, he pressed a single finger into Momotaro. Even though this was far from their first time, he never pushed Momotaro farther than he thought he could go. He enjoyed watching Momotaro go to pieces from the very beginning every time.

A low groan slipped from Momotaro's lips as Mikado slowly worked him open with gentle thrusts of his finger. The movements of his hips had stilled as Mikado began to work, but as he adapted he began to move again with low moans, growing more desperate with each passing moment.

There was barely any resistance anymore when he would push up into Momotaro. Mikado drew his finger out enough to add more of the lube to it and the one next to it, and then pushed both of them up into Momotaro. He went slower again to allow Momotaro to adapt before pushing him further, and his patience was soon rewarded in Momotaro's head tipping back as he moaned again.

Once Momotaro brought one of his hands back to his chest to rub a finger over one of his nipples again, Mikado decided it was time to truly push him to his limits. He again took Momotaro's length in his other hand, stroking it in time to the gentle thrusts of his fingers into Momotaro. With the first slide of his hand, Momotaro's mouth fell open on a silent groan, and his finger appeared to rub more firmly over his nipple.

Mikado kept the movements of his hands slow, measured, watching carefully for Momotaro's response to each part of the stimulation. He wanted this to build slowly. The more it took to bring him to the brink, the more satisfying his crest would be.

The flush across Momotaro's cheeks had grown darker, and it was scorching hot inside him. Mikado could feel himself straining against his fly, but he didn't want to make any move to relieve it. This was about Momotaro. He could always find a way to take care of it himself later.

Gradually, he sped up the movements of his fingers inside Momotaro, matching the pace with his hand stroking along Momotaro’s cock. The response was exquisite, the way Momotaro began to arch his back up, bringing up his other hand to pinch and tug at both his nipples at the same time. Each time Mikado’s hand reached the head of his cock a soft moan slipped out.

As he got caught up in witnessing Momotaro’s pleasure, Mikado’s own breathing had picked up to match. It grew more difficult to repress his own excitement, and he increased the pace of his hand stroking along Momotaro's cock accordingly.

“Mi…ka…” Momotaro gasped, no longer making any effort to stay in character. His fingers worked at his nipples at a relentless pace, and he grew louder the way he always did as his peak approached.

When Mikado hooked his fingers up to brush against the spot inside him, Momotaro’s back arched up as his mouth opened in a silent moan.

Mikado’s patience couldn’t hold out any longer, and he only continued to rub his fingers at that spot while he pumped his hand along the length of Momotaro’s cock. Each stroke drew another moan from Momotaro’s lips, and Mikado was entranced watching him writhe on the bed. He’d watched this play out more times than he could count over the course of their time together, but watching Momotaro approach his climax was still fascinating each time.

It seemed that the act of their roleplaying had an effect on Momotaro, because his orgasm came faster and with far less warning than it usually did. He held his breath as his back arched up again, his head pressing back into the mattress, and once he actually ejaculated, his hips twitched forward with each pulse.

Mikado patiently waited for Momotaro to ride each wave. He continued to stroke his hand along Momotaro’s cock to squeeze every last drop out, and once he’d collapsed back onto the mattress with a soft moan, Mikado drew his fingers out of him.

He’d lacked the foresight to prepare a way to clean up any mess they made. He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Momotaro’s sweat-slicked forehead and whispered, “I’ll be right back, Momotasu.”

As he walked into the bathroom, he heard Momotaro moan softly behind him.

He washed his hands quickly, then wet a washcloth with a small amount of soap in one corner. He grabbed a dry cloth as well, and went back to where Momotaro lay on the bed. The way he looked—so exhausted, wrung out—brought a smile to Mikado’s lips.

He didn’t need anything else tonight.

“I’m back,” he murmured as he settled down onto the bed next to Momotaro. “I’m going to clean you up now.”

“Mm… Mika… I can do that…” Momotaro murmured.

Mikado gently pushed his hands back down when he reached for the cloths. “Let me do this for you, please. Consider it part of the treatment.” Mikado grinned.

Momotaro managed to open an eye and a smile tugged at his lips. “If you insist, Sekimura-sensei.”

“I do,” Mikado said, and took the time to clean and dry Momotaro’s fluid-streaked abdomen. He deposited the cloths in the laundry hamper—he’d wash them tomorrow when he did the rest of Momotaro’s laundry for him, since he was ill—and sat back down on the bed. “Now, you need your rest.”

“But—“

Mikado shook his head and slipped his glasses off. He folded in the arms and carefully laid them on the shelf of Momotaro’s headboard. In the aftermath of what they'd done, he felt a wave of remorse for not listening to his gut before Momotaro had started playing his role. “No, Momotasu. You’re ill. I shouldn’t even have done that to you…”

“I asked you to,” Momotaro said, his voice flat.

“I know, but I know better—“

Momotaro sat up and took Mikado’s face in his hands. He was easier to see close up like this without Mikado wearing his glasses, and he could see how Momotaro’s eyebrows had drawn together in irritation. “No, Mika. I  _ asked _ you to. I  _ wanted _ you to. Don’t you dare feel bad about that.”

Mikado sat in silence for a few moments. “All right. I’m sorry, Momotasu.”

“Now…” Momotaro pushed on his shoulders until he was laying down on the bed, and climbed up to straddle his hips. “About the matter of your payment, Sekimura-sensei.”

Now Momotaro was too far away for Mikado to see the expression on his face clearly. “You really don't need—”

Momotaro reached down to press a finger to Mikado’s lips. “I can't receive treatment from a doctor without paying him. That would be  _ irresponsible _ .”

Mikado couldn't argue with Momotaro, as much as he wanted to. Of course, if he were truly a doctor this entire thing would have been unethical, but part of the appeal of this role play  _ was _ the fact that it'd be taboo in reality.

He especially couldn't argue once Momotaro rolled his hips to grind against his still half-hard cock.

“I don't have any money, though…” Momotaro's voice sounded so low, so sultry, Mikado wished he hadn't already taken off his glasses. He wanted to be able to see Momotaro's face.

He found himself falling into the role again as easy as breathing. “I’m sure we could come to an agreement.”

Momotaro ran his hands along Mikado’s chest, again rocking his hips against Mikado. “I don't know… would this be enough, Sekimura-sensei?”

Even through his shirt, Mikado could still feel the heat of Momotaro's fever burning. It was harder to feel through the layers of his pants and underwear, but the thought of his cock being wrapped in the searing heat inside Momotaro was enough to make him  _ imagine _ he was feeling it.

“That should be enough, I think,” he murmured. He pressed himself up against Momotaro and ran his hands over his naked, burning thighs.

Momotaro bent to kiss him again, and on his way back up, Mikado opened his eyes and saw a small smirk pulling at Momotaro's lips.

He slid down from Mikado’s lap, setting on his knees between Mikado’s legs. Slowly he ran his hands up Mikado’s thighs until he got to his belt, which he undid with a meticulous slowness that drew a soft moan from Mikado.

Mikado propped himself up on an elbow, watching Momotaro work—at least as well as he could considering his lack of glasses. He could feel Momotaro running his hands along the bulge in his underwear, and it drew a soft moan from his lips. Momotaro started working his pants down, and Mikado laid down again so he could lift his hips and allow his pants to be removed entirely.

Momotaro took Mikado's cock into his hand and stroked along its length slowly. The fever burned even here, and it intensified the feeling to the point where it nearly felt as though it weren't Momotaro's hands on him at all.

With each stroke Momotaro mimicked the movements Mikado himself had made, drawing his hand toward the head and curling it before sliding it back down. Dimly, Mikado hoped that this wasn't the way Momotaro intended to repay him as it were, but it felt so good he didn't really want to say anything that may have caused this to end. 

It wasn't too long before Momotaro removed his hands from Mikado’s length, and the sound he made with the loss of stimulation was downright embarrassing. Somehow his cock felt  _ cold _ without the heat of Momotaro's hands, and he suppressed a small shudder before moaning again. 

Momotaro climbed up on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing their cocks together. A moan slipped from between Mikado's lips, and then he felt Momotaro's weight shift as he leaned over.

It looked to him, blurry as Momotaro was, that he had picked up the bottle of lube. He heard Momotaro squeeze some out onto his fingertips, then he leaned forward to plant a hand next to Mikado's head.

Momotaro didn't often do this, so Mikado treasured seeing the look on his face, hearing the gasps and moans he let out, even hearing the wet noises of him pushing his fingers into himself. He couldn't stop himself from moaning just from the sounds of it, and Momotaro echoed the sound.

With the work Mikado had already done to relax him earlier, Momotaro didn't have to spend much time at all preparing himself, and soon enough he'd reached back to spread the rest of the lubricant on his fingers onto Mikado's cock.

When he started to sink down onto him, Mikado gasped, then moaned loudly. They rarely did this without a condom, though neither were truly opposed to the idea—they were each faithful to the other, after all—and to feel the tight grip of Momotaro around him without a barrier in the way took his breath away.

The fever made the heat more intense, nearly searing. Mikado reached up to grip at Momotaro's thighs with another groan once Momotaro had settled himself all the way down, his ass resting flush against Mikado's hips.

"Ah, Mika…" Momotaro moaned as he rocked his hips forward without raising himself up. It was a different sensation entirely than him actually moving. It was unbearable.

Mikado tightened his hold on Momotaro's thighs. "Pl… please, Momotasu… a-ah, it's so hot…"

He rolled his hips again, but this time Momotaro brought up his hands to stroke his hands over his chest. First the fingertips, circling over his nipples, before sliding his hands up to squeeze at the muscles there. As much as it felt like a tease to just get that slight motion on his cock, once again watching Momotaro fall apart was fascinating to Mikado. He was always so restrained, so stoic.

Nobody would have ever believed Momotaro could look like this, that Momotaro could  _ act _ like this. His lips were parted in ecstasy and he moaned desperately as he groped at his own chest. His cock stood straight out, so incredibly hard again as he continued to simply grind himself down against Mikado's hips.

"Look at you," Mikado said, simply speaking his mind now, "You look so good when you have me inside you.”

The dirty talk, as it often did, made Momotaro pause. While he generally reacted favorably to such talk, today he moaned even louder than usual. One of his hands left his chest to slide down his stomach towards his cock, but he didn't touch it directly. He slid it down past the base as he raised his hips up enough to run his own fingertips around the edge of where Mikado disappeared into him. He moaned again, louder, as he stroked over the ridge of muscle. While it didn't add much to the physical sensation on Mikado’s part, watching Momotaro respond to the feel of his body accommodating Mikado elevated the overall intensity of his arousal.

He was gripping Mikado so tightly. The heat—always intense during this act anyway—was overwhelming. Again, he clutched at Momotaro's thighs. "Do it, Momotasu. Let me see you ride me."

It seemed that was all the encouragement Momotaro needed, and he shifted his position to allow himself to raise up before sinking down again. The change in position let Mikado slip even deeper into him and they each moaned louder in response. Mikado clung desperately to Momotaro's thighs, feeling the muscle flex and move under his hands each time Momotaro moved.

The heat gripping him waned before growing more intense again each time Momotaro slid down his length again. His breath came faster as Momotaro continued to move, matching with Momotaro's own desperate panting.

Momotaro shifted, leaning back to place his hands on Mikado's thighs, and any pretense he may have had about attempting to be quiet was thrown away the first time he lowered himself down onto Mikado again. It was so hot inside him, the grip so tight, the sensation so intense with nothing between them, that Mikado's limit was fast approaching. He reached out to take Momotaro's cock in his hand, and his first stroke up to the head left a decent amount of fluid on his thumb when he ran it over the tip.

Mikado couldn't do much else beyond moan Momotaro's name and stroke his hand firmly along his length. He had his eyes closed now, trying to block out as much extra stimulus as he could in an attempt to stave off his peak as long as possible. Momotaro continued to move faster, his own moans starting to hitch and stutter.

"A-ah, Momotasu… I… can't…!" Mikado managed to gasp before his back arched up and he cried out. Momotaro echoed his moan but with a much more disappointed tone, then shoved Mikado's stilled hand away from his cock. Mikado still couldn't open his eyes as he gasped with each aftershock of his orgasm, but he could hear Momotaro stroking himself with quick, hard movements.

It was as though Momotaro was desperate to drive himself to the edge as fast as possible, and his moans grew uncharacteristically loud before they hitched and he slammed down one last time.

The room was silent save for the sound of their breathing, until Momotaro slid off of Mikado's lap with a soft groan. In the absence of his burning heat, Mikado shivered.

Mikado didn't even open his eyes before he spoke. "We'll need to clean you up again."

"You… too…" Momotaro replied, sucking down desperate breaths between his words.

Guilt bubbled up again. "I shouldn't have let you do that, Momotasu."

"Don't start that again, Mika." Already Momotaro sounded less winded. "Like I already told you, I  _ wanted _ to do that. I'm fine."

Mikado paused. "You're right. I'm sorry for bringing it up. Let me know when you're ready to get up, and I'll help you take care of everything."

"You'll want a new shirt," Momotaro mumbled. "I might have ruined it."

Again, Mikado realized his lack of planning, and he opened his eyes to look down at his shirt. The wet, milky spots and streaks were too prominent to ignore. Mostly, they were focused near the hem, but a few splatters made it up near his chest. "Oh."

"Sorry."

Mikado shook his head as he sat up and pulled it over his head. "No, it's fine. I'll rinse the worst of it out in the bathroom when I take care of you. Let me go back to my room and get a new shirt, Momotasu. I'll be right back."

Momotaro made a soft sound of acknowledgment, and Mikado stood up to find his jeans on the floor. He pulled them back on and went to his room next door to change into a loose T-shirt. When he returned, clean underwear and lounge pants in hand, Momotaro was sitting up in bed. He was leaned over the side, looking for his own shirt.

“Oh, it's over here, Momotasu,” Mikado said as he plucked it out of the jumble of blankets. “And I left your pants…” He dug through the pile of covers that had slid down onto the floor, then handed them up to Momotaro. “I know that it'll be uncomfortable to wear these to the bathroom. Do you want me to find you something looser?”

“If you don't mind,” Momotaro said softly. He sounded absolutely exhausted, but the last thing Mikado wanted was to delay cleaning Momotaro up.

He went to Momotaro's closet and opened the drawer he knew contained Momotaro's pants. He found a loose, comfortable pair, then opened the other drawer containing the underwear.

After this long together, he knew how Momotaro organized his wardrobe nearly as well as he knew his own.

“Here, I'll take these with my own clothes—” he held up the underwear as he said this— “And you can get dressed enough to come to the bathroom with me.”

Momotaro nodded, then slipped the shirt over his head, climbed out of the bed, and pulled on his previous underwear and the lounge pants Mikado held out for him.

They walked to the bathroom together with the clean clothes in Momotaro's arms, Mikado’s dirtied shirt in his hand, and his opposite arm around Momotaro's shoulders. It wasn't necessary—Momotaro was steady on his feet and needed no support, but Mikado wanted to have him close.

They shed their clothes and started to fill the bathtub, then Mikado set about rinsing as much of the mess out of his shirt as he could. Once it seemed as though he’d gotten it about as clean as he was going to without actually putting it through the wash, he turned his attention to Momotaro.

He’d already started the process, his hands in his lathered hair, and Mikado hummed as he moved behind him to replace his hands. “Let me do this, Momotasu. I want to take care of you.”

“You don’t have to, Mika,” Momotaro said, as he moved his hands aside to let Mikado in anyway.

The same song and dance as always: one insisting he take care of the other, the other putting up a verbal argument even as he allows it.

Mikado worked the lather through Momotaro’s hair with slow, meticulous movements. He massaged his fingers against Momotaro’s scalp, small gentle circles, and smiled to himself as it brought a soft moan from Momotaro. It had long since stopped feeling strange to have such long hair between his fingers—after all, he wore a classic cut himself, and had never had hair as long as Momotaro’s—but he loved it, and couldn’t imagine Momotaro ever wearing it any differently.

“I’m going to rinse it out now,” Mikado said softly.

Gently, he tipped Momotaro's head back and rinsed the shampoo from it before picking up the conditioner and applying it to his hair.

As he combed the conditioner through Momotaro’s hair he realized he couldn't feel the heat of the fever under his fingertips anymore. He wasn't sure if it was just the bathroom being warm itself or the fever subsiding, but Momotaro didn't feel nearly as hot now.

“You can't just focus on me, Mika,” Momotaro said softly.

Mikado turned off the water to the tub, turned to pick up a washcloth, then wet it before starting to rub the bar of soap against it. “There's plenty of time for me later.”

Momotaro turned around and took the cloth from Mikado’s hands. “No, Mika.”

Mikado opened his mouth to argue, but decided it was better not to and closed it again. “It'll be easier if we each take care of ourselves, then.”

“I didn't say that.” Momotaro pressed gently on Mikado's forehead. “Close your eyes, Mika.”

He did as instructed, and then the shower head turned on and warm water ran through his hair to his scalp.

“You deserve to be taken care of too,” Momotaro murmured as he began to massage the shampoo through Mikado’s hair. “I’m glad you want to spoil me, but I want us to take care of each other.”

Mikado didn't open his eyes while Momotaro rubbed his fingertips against his scalp. “But you were sick, Momotasu.”

“And I'm starting to feel better,” Momotaro said, “So we’re going to be fair now.”

Momotaro took his time and Mikado knew his hair, being much shorter, was clean long before Momotaro started to rinse the soap from it. He kept his eyes closed as Momotaro worked, enjoying the feel of Momotaro's fingers against his skin.

Once Momotaro had run the conditioner through his hair, Mikado rinsed it from Momotaro's. He reached for the washcloth again, and handed the second one to Momotaro. "We'll take care of each other, then."

Mikado rubbed the soap against the washcloth again, then started to run it over Momotaro's chest. After all the attention he'd paid to it earlier it felt even more intimate to clean it now. He meticulously ran the washcloth over the trail of marks he'd left going down Momotaro's stomach with a sense of pride.

"Let me rinse your hair now, Mika," Momotaro said as Mikado finished running the soap over his chest and stomach.

Mikado paused, still holding the washcloth to Momotaro's front. "I haven't finished, though."

With a shrug, Momotaro picked up the sprayer anyway.

It was obvious that Momotaro wasn't about to give this up, so Mikado simply lowered the washcloth and allowed him to work. He was just as meticulous about this as he had been about the shampoo, and it was truthfully incredibly relaxing to simply Momotaro work.

"I'm done," Momotaro said softly, and Mikado had to blink a few times to bring himself back.

"Then I'd like to finish what I was doing," Mikado said softly.

Momotaro didn't put up any argument as Mikado began to run the washcloth over his back and shoulders, then down his arms. One at a time, Mikado worked the soap down Momotaro's legs and feet. He paused before moving on, then when Momotaro made no motion to ask him not to, he gently washed around Momotaro's cock.

One last place, and it was certainly the place requiring the most attention. "We need to get you cleaned, Momotasu," Mikado said softly.

It was never an easy or glamorous proposition, which was why they used condoms the vast majority of the time, but with care Mikado helped Momotaro take care of the problem he'd created.

Wordlessly, Momotaro wet the washcloth he had and repaid the favor.

Once they were both cleaned and rinsed, Mikado murmured, "Would you like to get into the tub, then?"

Momotaro smiled, then kissed Mikado softly. "Yeah." He climbed into the tub, leaving enough space for Mikado to sit behind him.

They didn't always bathe together—in fact, they tried not to do it too often, for fear of disturbing the others in the apartment. They had, however, done it enough times that it was a simple proposition to arrange themselves the most conveniently. Mikado sank into the tub and Momotaro moved back to settle between Mikado’s legs, his back to Mikado’s chest.

“I’m glad you're feeling better,” Mikado murmured. He started to run his fingertips over Momotaro's upper arms, going down where they disappeared under the water and back up to his shoulders. “We shouldn't stay here for  _ too  _ long, though. You still need as much rest as you can get.”

Momotaro made a quiet noise of agreement, then after a moment he murmured, “You're probably going to get sick.”

“It’s all right,” Mikado said softly. “I wanted to take care of you, and that's just a risk that comes with that.”

In response, Momotaro simply drew Mikado’s arms around himself. They sat there in the tub until the water started to grow cold, and they climbed out and dressed in their pajamas. Mikado accompanied Momotaro back to his room and ensured he was settled into the bed before going into his own room to hang up his dirtied shirt. He would wash it tomorrow, but with it hung up it wouldn't become musty in the rest of his laundry.

Finally, he went back into Momotaro's bedroom, where he found Momotaro had already started to drift off to sleep. It turned out that he'd settled himself on one side of the bed, so Mikado slipped in next to him. Momotaro stirred, but he turned in to Mikado’s embrace and quickly sank back into sleep.

Soon enough, it claimed Mikado, too.

* * *

The next morning, when Mikado woke up with chills he shouldn’t have rightfully had with the blanket pulled over him, Momotaro was gone and it felt like he'd painted his mouth with syrup before stuffing it full of gauze.


End file.
